Sleep In Sundays - New Year's Kisses | Текст песни

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• Sleep In Sundays
• New Year's Kisses

Soft spirits sang dizzy, quiet songs--a hopeful beacon to the bodies deep inside the garden's grasp. God rest such young and tired souls, precious in the grass. Soft hands and unmade plans--more than I could ask for again.

And in the garage that night I felt something putrid although fresh: your presence was falling away from me through glassy eyes and soft lips. I must remember that mine, not yours, were cracked and shall remain that way forever--or, at least for one more year.

Sitting on the porch, I felt the clouds fall down. The moon was sickly in a sickle shape, woozy all around. The static ran through our fingertips, scurried through feathered fur. You could feel it in the dry, frigid air: everything we were.

I could feel my heart dying with all the dried leaves. Whispered wishes from our lips filtered through the pine trees. The skin on our hands was cracking off so we felt it all, like a disease.

Snow was smooth as your freckled cheeks, and equally as white. Cold blood, fluorescent lights. I will never be as free as I was on that frigid night--under chains and ropes and locks and ties--not if I tried with all my might. So I say, "All I want for Christmas is a new last name and New Year's kisses from your lips as your consciousness wanes."

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